These hands
weeding, discovered palms,
and wondered...
Will these old palms
make supple crosses?
These hands
cut long strips
of granite green.
A mind-memory of angle to knot,
thread through, criss-cross.
These hands
delivered simple gifts
to lonely, sheltered neighbors,
a churchless congregation
praying together.
© 2020 Margaret Simon (draft). All rights reserved.
Our first of three challenges from My Shouting, Shattered, Whispering Voice: A Guide to Writing Poetry & Speaking Your Truth by Patrice Vecchione (Seven Stories Press, 2020) is to write a poem about the place empathy has your life. Click HERE for more details.
Post your poem on our April 2020 padlet. All contributions will be included in a wrap-up celebration on Friday, April 24th, and one lucky participant will win a copy of My Shouting, Shattered, Whispering Voice, courtesy of the publisher.
This is beautiful! I love it. And, tremendous empathy here.
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautiful act of kindness described here, Margaret. It's the kind of hopeful poem we need more of.
ReplyDeleteThanks for this, Margaret! Very lovely. I had forgotten how my dad used to stand outside the church doors (at home congregation in Michigan) on Palm Sunday and teach people how to make these. He lives in Florida now and could see him doing this. Very lovely poem and memory. :)
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